The apples, and bananas, oh and peaches.
Those are great.
But I enjoy eating an orange the most.
I've been eating this particular orange for months now.
Months, and yet it still isn't overly ripe, rotten or whatever
other kinds of odd happenings happen to old fruit.
The other day however, I was about to eat a piece,
when I realized that it was no longer an orange.
It had become a grapefruit.
I'm not sure if I like grapefruit.
2 comments:
I haven't checked up on this blog for a long, long time... But I really like this poem. A lot.
I'm going through a lot of changes right now, and change is hard. Really hard... And sometimes you don't know if you're going to like it or not.
Great job. There's some slight wording changes I would make, like changing "an orange" to "oranges" to go with the list above... But the poem works either way.
I don't know about this poem. The metaphor seems self-conscious and obvious; food = woman = stale, ripe, juicy, whatever.
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